


The Voices of the Shack

by AL_Alexander



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: And a lot of mental torture, And he's gonna drag everyone down with him., Creepy, Dipper get hurt, Just creepy as fuck, Not so much physical, THANKFULLY, but still, nasty stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AL_Alexander/pseuds/AL_Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper's been betrayed, and thrown into a dark cell. By the time people remember who he was, and dredged him up, he wasn't Dipper anymore. Meet the vessel for the Voices, AKA, demons even Bill can no longer control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voices of the Shack

**Author's Note:**

> Yo. This first chapter is 7 pages, which I'm proud about. However, be warned, it may stay forever a WIP, unless I really wanna continue it (which I do, just need insparation). Until that moment comes, however, it'll be stuck in WIP hell. Join me as we inwardly sob at what I do the characters.

                “Wait… WAIT, _WAIT, NO, STOP, PLEASE_!”

 

                That was enough to snap anyone out of a deep sleep, no matter how uncomfortable it had been. Another near sleepless night. Another nightmare. Another night alone. In the dark. With no one around. A broken promise. A broken deal. A broken kin-ship. A broken heart. A little maggot in the back of his head whispered things. _You did this to yourself_ , it hissed and squirmed. _You_ lied _to everyone. And you expect them to stay near you._ It laughed, a cold, sarcastic sound. _You are so stupid._ A whimper dragged itself from his throat, a sound he made so much, he wondered if his vocal cords could even string together words. A tighter ball. A growling stomach. Skin stretched tight over bones. His mind going. His blood getting thicker. He could feel Death curl it’s fingers around his throat, clasping there, waiting to strangle the life out of him. Before, he would’ve said no. Now, he wanted it to just end. His pitiful meaning of a life.

 

                The next time he awoke, it was still pitch black. What day was it? Was it even day? Did anyone remember him? Did he even really expect them to? _No,_ that voice answered. _They won’t. You don’t deserve a name anymore, do you?_ The brick wall that was behind him, the pipe he was chained to, the hand cuffs themselves, the rough dirt floor… that was all he felt from his cell. The skin around his wrists were always bleeding, raw. They kept trying to heal, but would heal around the metal from the hand cuffs, so when he moved, he kept bleeding. He guessed a spell (or curse) had been placed on him, to keep him alive. How else would he be alive? Unless it was a lot less time than he thought. He wished he could see the sun. Feel it. Just once more.

                He heard people walk back and forth. Was that actually people, or just his mind, creating something he could latch onto. Was something there? Alive? Might as well try. “H-help.” It sounded weak. “Help…” No better. “Help! Please!” The footsteps stopped. He did as well. His heart pounded. There were quiet whispers before the footsteps left. “Wait! No, no, _please, COME BACK_!”

                _Stupid little boy,_ the voice chided. _They’ll never let you out. You managed to make a demon break a deal with you. Do you think they’ll come back at your beck and plea?_ Tears dripped down his face. He remained silent, trying to listen. They were gone. He’d driven them away. The voice sighed. _You are so stupid, aren’t you? So useless. Pathetic. They’ll_ never _come back for a liar._ NEVER. _Stop trying, give up. You’re alone now, aren’t you?_ He swallowed down the bile that threatened to spill out. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t… right? There had to be people still waiting for him. At least his parents. He looked up (the only thing he did know), and prayed. To whom, he did not know, nor did he care. “Please…” he sobbed quietly. “Get me out.” Sleep started to fog down his mind, and fell into it, hoping that there would be no nightmares.

 

                When he awoke again, something was… off. He took a breath. The air in his cell was sort of dead… He realized what had happened. His eyes widened in terror. “No. _NO, NO, PLEASE_!” But it was too late. He was sealed in for the rest of eternity, forever to be forgotten. Panic over came him. He wanted to get out. He _needed_ to get out. It was an itching under his skin. A virus in his blood. A hum in his brain. And it got louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And louder. And-

                “ _LET ME OUT, PLEASE_!” He slammed his head against the wall, making that bleed as well. He arched and squirmed and writhed and kicked and flailed as much as he could. But it didn’t do anything. Just made him bleed more. His head was bleeding, his wrists were bleeding, his legs were bleeding, his feet were bleeding, his back was bleeding, his hands were bleeding. It felt like he was bleeding out. It hurt. So much. So, so, so much. His tears were coming so quickly, so thickly now, he wondered…

                He licked a path that they made near his face. He was bleeding from his eyes too. And his nose. And his ears. Was he dying? Please, let him be dying. The suffocation that came with closed off cell, the damp, dead air, the stench of blood, finally made him fall asleep again.

 

                The voice woke him up this time. _You’re bleeding,_ it tsked, and it felt like it was looking him over. “It hurts,” he whined. _Well, stop wiggling._ He blinked the tears of blood away. “But… I think I could get out of these… if I had more,” he swallowed. “More blood. I could get away. I could die naturally, normally. I could _die_.”

                _Die?_ Die?! _HA! You know they put a curse on you. You’re immortal. Forever to be trapped in here. You’re a freak. A monster. And soon enough, nothing but a ghost, something that people whisper about. A tale. What will you do if you get out?_ Those words made him stop. What would he do? He would be chased out if it had only been a few days. Or he’d be captured, tortured. None would help him. He could go no where. He could stay no where. He was useless. He was alone.

                “But… I’m so scared. And hungry. And thirsty. And tired. I just… I wanna go home,” he whimpered, gently tugging at the hand cuffs. _Well, you can’t! You lived up to everything they thought you would be. You have just told them_ everything _you need to know about you. What you are. How you are. They will never,_ ever _listen to you again._

                He sobbed. The voice. The voice was right. He was alone. And he sat there, praying for it to stop.

 

                He’d woken up many more times. He’d forgotten when the Voice had stopped being in his head anymore. It was no as real as his mind. It rasped, it hissed, it snarled, it was the fears that were being brought to life. It would endlessly taunt him, torture him. And then, the claws came. At first, it was a sort of tickling feeling. It didn’t hurt. But as time went on, they made gashes, cuts, lines. Runes and symbols, he knew, covered his skin. It hurt. But in a sense, it was a pain he realized that he’d wanted. And in time, the Voice told him what they were. “They tell everyone you are _mine_ ,” it had hissed one day, leaving a small cut on the edge of his nose. “And you don’t deserve clothes. A ghost doesn’t need clothes. A freak doesn’t need clothes. A monster doesn’t need clothes.”

                This continued for days and days and days and days and days. Wait. Was it days? Was it hours? Minutes? Seconds? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He hurt. He had lost all emotions but fear. He was a ghost. A freak. A monster, wasn’t he? Something to be forgotten. Ignored. Hated, most likely. He was alone. The Voice kept up it’s relentless, demonizing whispers. He couldn’t sleep anymore. It had told him he didn’t earn it. He never would again. How long had he been up? He didn’t know, but his brain was slowly shutting down. He was forgetting even his name, but didn’t the Voice, at one time, tell him he didn’t need it anymore? That he was never going to be called by it again? He couldn’t remember. And it was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the Voice was right, and it made everything so easy. But a curse because, would he remember those who he’d loved?

                … Did he love them? Who were even them? Who was even he? Everything he knew was slowly being taken away, leaving only the words, “Freak”, “Monster”, “Ghost”. The Voice never picked one for a consistent one. Some times, it was only Freak, other times, Monster, and yet others, Ghost. But when reminding him what had happened, it would use all three.

 

                And then, the door opened. The Voice had once told him, a long while ago, that it had been three years since he’d been thrown in. Three long, dark years. “You are nearing your end of humanity,” it had said that time. That was back when he defied it. Still. But even that had been ages ago. And humanity… he’d heard of that word, hadn’t he? Ages ago. He didn’t remember his name, what he looked like, and all he remembered were the voices that came when the Voice wasn’t here. They slithered around him, lulling him into a trance. “Follow us down the hole,” they’d purred in a rasp. “Follow us down. Follow us. Follow us down. Follow us down the hole.” Over and over and over again. And he’d nearly done it. So nearly. But his hand cuffs always got in the way.

                And the door opened, revealing three beings. They weren’t the Voice, who only had a voice and teeth and claws. They had… they had… they weren’t. They couldn’t be. Something, in the back of his mind, told him to run. To hate them. To scream for them to leave him. And his gut turned to stone. He didn’t want to leave. The things recoiled, and he cocked his head. Why did they move away from his cell? It was lovely… wasn’t it? The Voice and the smaller voices had told him so. “So lovely. And in such a lovely place.” One of the things stepped into the room. “Dipper?” He cocked his head. Dipper? Was that his name? Was it? That… that wasn’t right. “Dipper?” He parroted, confused at the name. He squinted at the thing, and the light coming from behind it. “Yes! Do you remember me?” The thing sounded excited. He blinked. Something in his head told him, “Evil”. Evil. That’s what they were. Evil. “Evil…”

                Even though the Evil’s face was hidden by shadow, he saw it drop. “What? No, I’m not…” It held out a hand. And it reached straight for his chest. What did it want? What was it doing? Why was it here? The loudest scream tore itself from his throat. All of the Evil flinched back, and the one closest to him fell backwards and crawled that way to. It was Evil. All of them. Evil. And that became the only thing that came out of his mouth. Over and over and over again. Evil. He felt some of his markings start to bleed, along with his eyes and ears and mouth. He started coughing heavily. He started to vomit blood, but kept up his cries. The one that had tried to touch him ran into the wall outside his home. “Get him to stop!” Another Evil yelled at the other. A larger, more blockier Evil walked in and closed his mouth. “Dipper, it’s _us_. Don’t you remember us?”

                The Evil looked worried. Confused. Scared. He stared at the Evil. He shook his head. His brain tried to latch onto a long forgotten memory, but the only thing that came was pain. Fear. Had they… Had they left him here? To be forgotten? It felt so. Most likely. The Evil removed it’s hands. “It’s us, ok? We’ve come to take you out.” It moved to the cuffs that held him in place. It brought out something small, and tried to fiddle with the cuffs, but finally gave up after a few moments. “Damnit. I can’t open them.”

                “Why not?” The Evil closest to him glared at the other large one. “He’s bleed so much, the entire thing’s basically rusted shut. I can’t get ‘em open. Mabel, go get me some wire clippers.” The Evil that had hit the wall before leapt up and ran. He just sat there. What did they want? To hurt him again? But why would they get him again? The first Evil returned with some strange object, and handed it to the closest one. “Thank you.” He felt some parts of the thing placed on the chain on the cuffs, and they were cut. He moved his hands away from the pipe, and stared at them. They didn’t look normal… did they? Five fingers, but something was off about his and not the others. The nails were long, sharp. And why did he let them bring that object so close? Was he in… what was it called…? Shock? He thought was the right word. Was he in shock? He hoped not. Shock was bad, right?

                He was ushered up and out of his home. They walked up something with many ledges (something the Voice had told him about), which he kept tripping over. One laughed the first couple of times, but after those, it realized that something wasn’t right with him. He was perfectly fine, right? Just fine. After the ledges, they lead him into something with a round-circle thingy on legs and other weird objects around him. Why would they bring him here? This was so much worse than what he’d known.

                One of the Evils, the one that had come up to him first, moved one of the objects away and sat down in it. It then waved at him. He gave it a glare and took a step backward, half to get away, half to spite it. “Dipper,” it sighed, standing up and walking over to him. “It’s been nearly five years, please talk to me.” He blinked at her words. Five years? They’d trapped him there, alone, for five years? Now, a single memory returned to his mind. The betrayal that occurred those years ago.

 

                “Mabel, please… Tell them they’re wrong.” He’d pointed at the others, staring at his twin sister, pleading. He hadn’t done _anything_. He was innocent, they wouldn’t believe him! But the look on her face, the tears. It’d felt like someone had punched him in the gut when he realized what it meant. The strong hands grabbed his arms and slowly took him away. He screamed and begged and pleaded, writhing and flailing in their iron vice grip. The handcuffs had gone into place and the door closed. He had been trapped in darkness.

 

                Now, he remembered. That’s why he felt a new emotion. Hatred, a small part of his mind told him. Pure hatred. Why could she have left him? Why did she do that? Before he even realized what he’d done, he had her under him, strangling her. She tried to scream, but due to the pressure on her throat, it didn’t even come out. She flailed and tried to escape her brother’s arms, but failed. “Kids we’re- Holy shit!” He was yanked off of her, and she coughed at the sudden air she received. “What the hell did you do?!”

                “I didn’t do anything!” Mabel cried, tears falling down her face. “OH, NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS!” Everyone went quiet. “Dude…” A quivering voice spoke from behind him. He wiped his head around. He spotted a rather fat Evil, looking horrified. He decided he would stop talking. The Voice, while not as real as the others, returned. _That’s right. They don’t deserve to listen to you. Such a pretty voice shouldn’t be wasted on them_ , it hissed, sounding amused. He threw a glare to the floor and just stood there. “Ok…” The Evil holding him sounded afraid, and his voice wobbled. “Let’s get him into a bath.” What was a bath? He glared, but was picked up and taken to another area, but this time, it was smaller. He was sat down on something cold and hard (not like the floor in his home) and he watched. A liquid filled up the small thing that one of the Evil’s was hunched over. It was a clear liquid, and didn’t smell or taste of anything. Mabel entered the room, seemingly calmed down some.

                “Now, Dipper, time to get into the water,” the Evil said, picking him up and putting him over the water. He stretched out his limbs, holding onto the edges. How did he know that wouldn’t kill him? “It’s like a cat…” The Evil sighed. Dipper sprang off the item and into a corner between it and the wall. “Dipper…” Mabel murmured, walking over. A light red ring showed where his hands had wrapped around her throat. She kneeled. “C’mon. This’ll make you feel a lot better, I promise.” She leaned in close…

                … And leapt back as he caught her cheek with his nails. Four long gashes now streaked her cheek. She stood, her head flung the direction that he had claws, and did nothing but that for a good long moment. “Uncle Ford, go.” The Evil blinked in surprise. “But Mabel-“ She shot him a glare, and he could feel the rage in it. The Evil flinched. “Go,” she repeated, this time with enough force that he raised his hands and left, shutting the door behind him. Mabel glared at him, and he met it. She stripped of her shirt, shorts, and hair band. He remembered how long her hair had been before he’d been thrown in. When did she cut it to chin length. “Alright, you wanna play, little bro?” Mabel snarled, snapping him out of his half-thoughts. “Let’s go.” She leapt onto him and straddled his legs, and pinned him down. He screamed and writhed, trying to get at her with teeth and everything he could. To no avail.

                This battle continued for about twenty minutes, then stopped, but only for a moment as Mabel kicked something to make the clear liquid go down. Must not like it. After another ten minutes of battling, the liquid was gone, and Mabel man-handled him into the object. He screeched, but she got into it as well and held him down. “Alright you little fuck,” she snarled, kicking at little levers, getting the liquid to a somewhat strange temperature. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t cold. He felt nerves kick to life rather painfully at whatever was coming from the liquid. “Bath time.” She grabbed something from beside them and put it over his head, which sprayed the liquid over him. He screamed as if he was being torn apart. He started crying, afraid for his life. “For fuck’s sake, Dipper, it’s not gonna kill ya!” Mabel snapped, rinsing some of the grime off of him. After a few more moments, he stopped, asking only one thing. “No more spray,” he sobbed, quivering. She stopped it and let the thing fill up with the liquid to a point, then stopping it. She let out a deep sigh and grabbed another item and then some sort of container filled with a thicker liquid. “Just… hold still, ok? And let me move you.” He sniffed, but nodded. Just no more spray.

                A while later, one of the Evils, who’d Mabel had called Ford, poked his head in. “Everything ok in here?” Mabel was drying her fluffy hair, and Dipper sat in now refilled, warm water (Mabel had explained what the water was). “Yeah, now,” she answered. “But do leave.” Ford left and closed the door quietly. Mabel walked over to her brother and sat down on the toilet (she had also told him what everything in here was). “I’m gonna wash your hair, ok?” He shrugged, and she took it as the best yes she was going to get. She snagged the shampoo and drizzled some in her hand. She lathered it slightly between her hands then started to scrunch them in his hair. “What’s my name, Mabel?”

                “Dipper, you’ve heard if already…” He looked at her, confused. “But Dipper isn’t my name, is it? It’s a nick-name, right?” Mabel sighed, but nodded. “I’m afraid to know why you have all those runes over your body,” she admitted. He raised an arm, looking at them. “The Voice carved them,” he told her. She blinked. “The Voice? What’s the Voice?” She knew he wasn’t talking about the T.V. show that she watched. “It’s… I don’t really know,” he sighed. “Hold your breath real quick.” He did so as Mabel rinsed the suds out of his hair. “So all you know is that it’s been there for a while.”

                “As long as I’ve been down there, roughly. Maybe a bit less, but not by much.” Mabel went silent as she thought about it. She’d heard weird things coming from the room he’d been locked in before… “Were there other… voices?” She was afraid to ask, but she needed to. “Yes,” he answered. “What did they want?” He shrugged. “They wanted me to follow them down the hole.” Mabel went stiff. “The hole? What hole?”

                “I don’t know. I never got far enough away from the pole to follow them.” He sounded almost sad. She took in a deep breath. “Listen, I want you to tell me everything you know, everything you remember.” He gave her a weak glare. “Fine,” he grumbled. He then launched into everything that he did remember, and what he did know, what the Voice and the smaller voices had taught him. It took nearly a hour, and by the end of this, he was out of the water, dried, and put into bed. His hair had grown long in those five years, and it was clear that cutting was not an option. She pet it, listening to all he said. She’d missed him, and felt guilty. This was her fault, in a sense. He stopped talking and looked at her. “Maybe… maybe we could give you some powers too.” She blinked. “What? I didn’t think that those runes helped you.” He nodded. “But they do. I can hear what all are saying now, what all are thinking. Even you, dear sister.” He pressed his palm to her cheek, and she stiffened. “Dipper…” Her voice wavered. “Don’t worry, dear sister,” he murmured. “You’ll awaken, and I won’t do anything. I promise.” She closed her eyes against her will and fell asleep.

 

                Waking up was a chore, a labor. She was being held by a thin, strong body, and it was covered in scars. Her mind was foggy, unable to really think. She moaned and moved her head. “Sulit, costem ituo, sal ofi timi calult,” He spoke softly, echoing. What ever he was speaking, it was both calming and terrifying. “Dip… per…” she murmured. He stopped. “You’re awake,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Mm, sorta.” She sat up, and he remained laying there. “What were you saying?” He shrugged. “That you should listen to me, to us.” He waved his hand around the room. She was confused, but at closer inspection, she could see little shadowy wisps dancing in the shadows, trying to get out. She flinched. “What are those?” He smiled at her question. “The voices. Come on, let me show you, please.” He looked so ready to show him everything he’d learned, but she… she didn’t want to. She was afraid. “Dipper, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she whispered. He cocked his head. “But they aren’t dangerous. Not at all.” He held out a hand, which she gingerly took. She was still not fully in command of her body, which was freaky in and of itself, but her brother wouldn’t kill her now, right? Hopefully not.

                The voices whispered things that she had never heard. But she understood them. “Dipper, what are they doing here?” He smiled, almost sweetly. “I wasn’t where they last saw me. They were worried I’d been killed.” A voice touched her leg and she squeaked, nearly kicking it away. It retreated and left a sort of soot like substance where it touched. Much like what she’d spent the last couple hours yesterday cleaning off her brother. “Are they everywhere?” He shook his head. “Just here, for now. They’ll grow.” She shivered at the words, “They’ll grow”. That was never good. They made their way down the stairs (The voices had told him what everything in the house was, how to use it, and so on and so forth), and into the kitchen. Both Stans were out of the house, Wendy had gone to college, and Sues had been so freaked out by yesterday that he had left. “You’ve gotten better faster,” she commented, sitting down in a chair. Her brother snapped and the voices started making food. He joined her at the table. “It’s not… that I’ve gotten better,” he spoke. “They just realized that if I was to survive, they’d need to tell me what everything around me is.” She nodded. “Makes sense.” What was strange was that, she wasn’t referring to herself as Mabel. It was just, her. That was… very odd. And somewhat wrong. “Why aren’t I thinking of myself by my… my…”

                “Oh. Well, it’s been kind of hard saying your name lately, hasn’t it? Before you even got me out?” He cocked his head. She nodded. Why had it been? “The voices explained that to me. Well, as well as they could. Since we’re twins, it turns out that our spirits are so connected, so as I started to lose my humanity, you got a sort of… side effect.” He left her to finish it. Once she did, she looked frightened. “So this was…?” He smiled calmly. “Meant to happen? Of course.” He smiled at a rather large voice as it set a non-stirred chocolate milk in front of him. She could feel it smile back. It wasn’t that she actually saw it. She could feel it. Like when you know something or someone is watching you. It was that kind of feeling. “Why, though? I haven’t seen you in years!” Another smile, but this time, it was sort of… cold. “Dear sister of mine, use that brain of yours. They have told me everything you’ve been up to the past few years.” A voice slithered over and set the food in front of both of them. He’d been stirring his milk and gave it an actual smile. “Why do you like them more?”

                “It’s not liking them. It’s trust. The Voice wasn’t very… kind.” She raised an eyebrow, to which he glared at her for. “But it did help me. Just because it didn’t like me much doesn’t mean it didn’t help me. Remember your ninth grade math teacher? You hated her, yet you learned.” She stared at him. No one, _no one_ knew of her. “It’s the same idea. It’s taught me so much.” He smiled as if remembering a fond memory, but then started to eat. “But… why do we forget our names? I mean, they are a part of us, right?” He shook his head. “We’re forced to latch onto these false names. Names that tell everyone something about us. By getting rid of these fake names, we can free ourselves.” She stared at him. “You’re talking crazy,” she stammered. “Crazy? Sister, how many times have you heard of people changing their names? Getting rid of it, and getting a new one? They are trading one name for another. How is what I am saying any crazier than that?”

                “Because our names aren’t false!” She stood up suddenly, a couple of smaller voices scattered. He remained seated, calm. “We are born with these names, given them by our parents, they aren’t false!” He patted his mouth with his napkin, looking only slightly troubled. “Sister, sit down. Stop hanging onto your silly, human parts. Just, listen to me.” He grabbed both of her hands, giving her a sweet smile. “ _Trust_ me.” She sat back down and stared. How was he so good at this? “I’ve trained, sister dear,” he answered, making her start. “You can…?”

                “Read minds? For lack of a better term,” he agreed, a cryptic smile over his face. “Now, are you going to listen to me?” She nodded, part of her feeling like she was in a trance. “The reason I’m so powerful, are because of these.” He waved, revealing creatures made of shadows. When he returned his gaze to her, his eyes gleamed. “Let’s become closer, sister.”


End file.
